h Frank
recognized as William Johnson's, said, in a low whisper,

"You're my prisoner!"

"It's just my luck," said the crest-fallen sentinel, bitterly, as
William led him down the bank. "I told Charley Sheldon that we would
be sure to be gobbled up if we were stationed here. Now, I suppose,
you want me to tell all our plans."

"No, we don't," answered Harry; "we know all your plans already."

By this time the smugglers had all come in, and, holding fast to their
captives, they held a consultation, in which it was decided that it
would be best to reconnoiter before attempting to leave the creek. It
was very dark, and not a sound broke the stillness of the night; but
the smugglers were too cunning to believe that the coast was clear,
for they knew that the enemy would resort to every possible means to
effect their capture.

Three of the smugglers were directed to get into Mr. Butler's yawl,
taking one of the prisoners with them, and drop down to the mouth of
Glen's Creek, and note the position of the enemy there; and Frank and
the other boys stepped into the skiff, and started up toward Ducks'
Creek, to ascertain the condition of affairs, taking Ned with them.
They pulled rapidly, but noiselessly, along, and had almost reached
the creek, when a strong, cheery voice, directly before them, called
out,

"Boat ahoy!"

"There," whispered Harry, "we're discovered."

"No, I guess not," said Frank. "Ned," he continued, turning to the
prisoner, "you must talk for us. Answer them."

"Ay, ay, sir," shouted Ned, in reply to the hail.

"What boat is that?"

"Dispatch boat," answered Ned, prompted by Frank; "and we bring orders
for you to pull down and join the fleet, which is now blockading the
mouth of Glen's Creek."

"All right," answered the voice. "We've been waiting an hour for that
order. This playing police is dull business."

And the smugglers heard the rattling of a chain, as if the anchor was
being pulled up.

"Tell them to make haste," whispered Frank.

"Come, hurry up there, now," shouted Ned.

"Ay, ay," was the answer.

And, in a few moments, the Sampson, propelled by four oars, shot past
them, on her way down the creek.

"That's what I call pretty well done," said Ben, as soon as the
coast-guards were out of hearing.

"I don't," said Ned. "It goes against me to fool a fellow in that way;
and my own friends, too."

The smugglers now continued on their way, and a few strong pulls
brought them w